


Relationship With Existence

by Laramidian_Phantoms



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Addiction, Alcoholism, Anxiety, F/F, Gen, Linkin Park - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Reconciliation, deep emotional conversations, emotional regulation, past emotional abuse, stranger things, toxic parents, will tag with updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramidian_Phantoms/pseuds/Laramidian_Phantoms
Summary: "Val waited for the angry rage that usually accompanied thinking about her father, but she had been finding as of late that the rage wasn’t nearly as strong as the pangs of sadness and longing. She had sworn to herself and to Cassie, who was still “just a friend” at that point, that she would never talk to that man who had given her so much unhappiness after her mother died. But now, four years later, that anger and need to blame someone for the pain she felt at that time had dissipated."Or, the reconciliation between Val Small and her father, Robert Small.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, first off, this first chapter is not beta read.
> 
> Second off, I love Robert Small for Many Reasons, but the one I'm realizing probably hits the most is the fact that the dynamic between him and Val are fundamentally things that I wish I saw in my own father. And I needed a vent fic, a fix-it fic, because I want to explore the emotions that Val and Robert feel since I can't explore them with my own father.
> 
> Third off, I'm terrible at having a consistent writing schedule, but I'll try and update this one at least once a week.
> 
> Fourth, I haven't played the game, so some details may be off as the fic continues. Feel free to point them out to me.

“Hey chickpea, what do you want me to do with this box?”

Val looked up from the box she was just starting to unpack, gazing at her beautiful girlfriend Cassie. She was holding a cigar box that was covered in little cartoon stickers. Val huffed lightly and looked from the cigar box up into Cassie’s chocolate eyes.

“Just put it on the mattress for now, I’ll find a place to put it later,” Val finally replied, and she looked back down at the box, which she found was filled with towels and bedsheets she hadn’t seen since the apartment before the last one, back when they lived in Washington Heights, before their business really got taking off. She heard the gentle drop of the cigar box onto the mattress in what was slowly becoming their bedroom, and she felt Cassie wrap her arms around Val’s shoulders as she removed the towels.

“It’s almost dinner, we should get something to eat,” Cassie said, a hint of a giggle in her voice. Val smiled and leaned back into Cassie’s embrace.

“True, we should,” she finally replied, and she let Cassie pull her up and lead her out of the room. She glanced at the little cigar box, catching the facial expressions of the three people in the photo that was washi-taped to the top of it.

As Cassie and Val walked out of the apartment complex and towards a nearby restaurant, Val thought about that photo. She remembered how she had set up her first DSLR camera on the tri-pod right outside of her college dorm. She remembered how her parents flanked both sides of her, embracing her for what was the last time that they’d probably attempt to fake being a “happy, functional family”. Not that her parents were abusive, of course. But… there was a lot to be wished for.

Cassie lightly squeezed her hand as they stood outside of a fancy ramen place, and Val cocked an eyebrow.

“You know, if we wanted ramen, we have plenty of instant cups in the kitchen,” she dryly said, and Cassie chuckled.

“Yes, but you don’t put the eggs in right.”

Val mock gasped, and Cassie smiled even more.

“Excuse you, I will have you know that the only way to make eggs in ramen work is through making it into egg-drop soup!”

Cassie chortled. “Yeah, this is also coming from the girl who eats pineapple! On her pizza!”

Val glowered, and Cassie laughed.

“Oh no, have I offended your terrible taste in food?”

Val smiled, gripping her girlfriend’s hand. “Do you know what happened to the last person who offended your terrible taste in food?”

Cassie smiled, pulling herself closer. “Yes, I was there as you ruined Darren’s coffee last week.” She took Val’s other hand and looked up at her girlfriend. “But Darren is a jerk, and I’m your girlfriend."

Val tried to keep the glowering face on as she gazed into her girlfriend’s eyes, her smile, her light freckles that sprinkled along her dark nose, but let slip a small smile.

“Okay, you’ve got me there,” she mumbled, pulling Cassie closer. Cassie tilted her head up and lightly kissed the tip of Val’s nose, causing Val to crinkle it and jerk back as Cassie chuckled.

“Alright chickpea, let’s go get some food.”

Val let her girlfriend tug her into the ramen shop, rolling her eyes as Cassie went on about the eggs.

 

*****

 

It wasn’t until the couple had gotten back to the apartment that Val actively thought about the cigar box again. Of course, it had lingered in the back of her mind, and Cassie had definitely noticed the few times that Val had spaced out during dinner. As they entered the bedroom again, Val’s gaze froze onto the box on their mattress, and Cassie rubbed her thumb along the top of her knuckles.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find the bedsheets and such, make the bed more, y’know, an actual bed,” Cassie said. Val turned to look at her and lightly smiled as she nodded, and Cassie turned to walk out, pulling the door more closed as she left. Val walked over to the mattress and sat on it, picking up the cigar box.

The photo reflected the light from the lamp on the other side of the room, blurring out her mother’s face. Val tilted the box, letting Marilyn’s polite but happy smile and kind eyes gaze into Val’s own face. She could feel her eyes tearing up, and she decided to look at her younger self. Hair half-buzzed, a spiky collar, and skull earrings matched with the torn Linkin Park on her upper body. She chuckled at her just-out-of-highschool look, full of rebellion and rage at…

She looked at her father, who was, for once, in something other than his standard dark-toned shirt and leather jacket. He had managed a white shirt, had managed to shave and appear to be less inebriated, appeared to be a father who was actually present for a lot of Val’s life.

Val waited for the angry rage that usually accompanied thinking about her father, but she had been finding as of late that the rage wasn’t nearly as strong as the pangs of sadness and longing. She had sworn to herself and to Cassie, who was still “just a friend” at that point, that she would never talk to that man who had given her so much unhappiness after her mother died. But now, four years later, that anger and need to blame someone for the pain she felt at that time had dissipated.

Of course, not that she didn’t have no reason to be angry at Robert. After she had cut him off, he had only attempted to reach out once, and then… disappeared from her life almost entirely. The times that she was given reminders that he existed, around Christmas, she usually spent a few hours printing out shitty photos from the latest photo shoot and burned them while drinking the bottle of white Zinfandel she keeps in the back of her fridge. It was the only time she ever really drank by herself, although Cassie was usually there to make the picture-burning event less lonely. And even before her mother’s death, her father had never really been… fully there for many of Val’s teen years, other than rare moments of lucidity that had decreased as she had gotten older.

She opens the cigar box and looks at the most recent card he had sent, Christmas 2016. There weren’t a lot of words, just a GrubHub code for some Hawaiian pizza from the pizza place in Manhattan he used to take her to as a kid and a short Christmas greeting, along with a picture of the dog he had gotten in the past year. She smiled sadly, hoping that the dog was actually being cared for.

_He fed you, clothed you, made sure you were safe, and taught you how to break a man’s neck if you ever needed it._

She sighed. Thinking back, it was true that her father had never actively hurt her. And yet he was never really around to see who she had become. She didn’t know if he liked who she was a person. She didn’t know if he was proud of her. She didn’t know if he would be alright with Cassie as a person. She didn’t know how he actually felt about her. Val’s memories of him dated back to before she was in middle school, back to when she lazily stuck stickers to his old truck’s dashboard and he made fantastical stories about each one she named. Pizza and movie nights while they waited for Mom to get home from her hospital shift. Watching him carve small pieces of wood during family camping trips. The distant way he’d promise to take her to a game, a movie, a dance, a show, but would often be gone to drink with other veterans from the area.

Those memories were far and few between by the time she hit high school, and instead yelling matches over whether or not he would be at the high school’s art show were more prominent. Her mother usually wasn’t around for those, but she often took Val’s side when she was present to see her dad’s sorry ass try and make an excuse for why he couldn’t go this time. The awkward silences in the truck that he drove her to school in, and his short few-word answers. She wanted to get to know him as a person, but he rarely gave anything away.

And Val wondered if it because he didn’t want to get to know her.

 _But he’s the one that sends me cards_.

Cassie opened the door and sat down next to Val. They let the silence of the moment fill the room until Cassie gently broke it.

“Hey, you’re not actively crying this time around.”

Val blinked, realizing that her eyes weren’t wet anymore. Her face didn’t feel stuffy, nor did her cheeks feel dry from tear marks like they had in the past when the cigar box was opened.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she mumbled.

There were another few moments of silence. Val thought about the cards, how there were less and less words over time. How the attempts to contact her were more and more feeble with time. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let him slide away. She had fought like hell for him to be around during high school. She had pushed him away during college. She had cut him off after Mom’s death. But she felt a sadness where there once had been rage, a longing where there once had been loathing. And maybe, just maybe, wisps of forgiveness.

And damnit, she missed having someone to eat Hawaiian pizza with.

“I think I’m going to send him a card.”

Cassie looked up at Val, shocked. “Him? You mean… Robert?”

Val nodded. “Yeah… I think,” she paused, trying to find the right words. “I think I want to try and get to know him again.

Cassie smiled at her girlfriend and placed her hand on Val’s arm.

“Let’s get to know your father.”

 

*****  


Robert Small did not usually get woken up by text notifications on his phone at high noon.

Sure, DadBook notifications and the Cryptid Hunting Forums were fairly active during the day, but only a few people had his actual phone number, and only one of them used it, and usually Mary wouldn’t me texting him at noon unless it was an emergency.

He reached out for the phone, his vision still somewhat blurry from the sleepy tears he had apparently been shedding in his sleep, again. He wiped his palm over his eye sockets and stared at the contact on the phone, and promptly dropped it on his face out of shock.

_Val?_

He picked up the phone again, his fingers shaking as he swiped the phone screen to unlock it.

**_Val: Hi, stranger._ **

He blinked.

_This has to be a prank._

He typed out a quick message in response.

**who are you**

**what have you done with my daughter’s phone**

He groaned internally. They hadn’t texted in… He scrolled up. The last messages were during that first Christmas after Marilyn had died.

_Four years._

If this was a case of phone robbery, Robert would have to laugh at the sad excuse of a father he presumed the phone thief saw him as.

A new message came in.

**_Val: ah, the classic “we haven’t spoken in years so this must be a joke” gag_ **

**_Val: how hilarious._ **

**_Val: wanted to thank you for all the pizza you’ve sent me_ **

Robert blinked in shock, and began typing back.

 **i see my assassination attempt wasn’t successful--** _No, can’t send that._ **glad to see my pineapple-loving genes have--** _No, not that._ He groaned in frustration. Already he was leaving his daughter on read. He finally settled with something.

**:pizza emoji:**

He waited with bated breath for a few minutes, and quickly felt the anxiety and guilt flood his mind. Robert tossed the phone back onto his bedside table and sat up, the mid-day light glinting off of the bottles along his floor. He grasped for a nearby bottle and was dismayed to feel that none of them had any liquid in them. _Shit._

The phone buzzed again. With lightly trembling hands and the sensation of his heart in his mouth, Robert picked up the phone again.

**_Val: see you’re still good with words._ **

He cursed silently under his breath.

**_Val: neway, my studio is hosting nyu’s photo grads studio exhibitions over the next month_ **

**_Val: think you’d enjoy at least a few of the photos_ **

Time seemed to freeze for Robert as he tried to remember the last time his daughter had tried to invite him to anything she was doing. Senior year of high school, if he remembers correctly. Her AP Studio Art exhibition. He hadn’t made it, and she was too jaded to even properly yell at him about it at that point.

He wondered why she even wanted him around, wanted him near the much better things in her life. _Maybe she wants to publicly humiliate me for performance art. Not that I don’t deserve it_.

The phone buzzed again.

**_Val: also i’m surrounded by cryptids who won’t eat pineapple_ **

Robert chuckled.

**i’ll be there after i bag the dover ghost**

He turned off notifications from his phone and finally got out of bed. He hadn’t had too much to drink last night, but he was not comfortable with the lucidity and anxiety guiding his thought processes right now.

Today was going to be a blurry day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wouldn’t say she was worried about Robert as much as she was curious about what was going on. He usually opened up his invitations to the bar with something about the season not being right for cryptid hunting, or some obscure wildlife fact that he had read during his late-night scouring of the internet. Musical lines from a musical she had him listen to once in the past month was odd, though.
> 
> Still, at least Mary knew that she had plans tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so some notes!
> 
> While Dadsona will become a character that Robert talks about/interacts with, we won't be seeing much of him since this is focusing on the Robert and Val reconciliation. This particular night is the night that, in-game, you meet Robert at the bar and he invites you to his house to become smash bros.
> 
> Mary and Crish will have a developing parental/child relationship. I haven't seen much of how Mary is as a character, so she will probably be very OOC for what is known canonically. Sorry. :/
> 
> Also, if you hate musicals, I'm sorry. My Mary is a Musical Mary. I'll try to keep references down to a minimum, though.

Mary looked up from the printer that was spitting out copies of adoption forms. She closed her eyes and sighed as she heard the barking of one of the newer dogs-- Spock, a labrador-- go from the veterinary examination room to the kennels. Her mind was wigging out, and she felt ready for a nap. Or a drink. Or both.

The morning hadn’t even been that exhausting for her, but she still had only managed so much sleep with Crish constantly asking for her attention. And she gave it, mainly because it had been one of her genuinely sober nights. That, and out of all of the Christiansen kids, Crish looked the most like her. The strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes made her smile, made her remember that she wasn’t just a wife and mother to a man who she had little affection for at this point. Crish reminded her that she had _substance_ , that she existed.

But damn did the little tyke babble at night.

A _bzz-bzzt_ from the desk interrupted her thoughts, and she looked at her phone and noticed that “Tom Waits” was texting her. At half-past noon. On a weekday.

 _Shit_ , she thought, _he’s never awake before 2 on weekdays._ She picked up the phone and swiped it open, reading the text.

**_tom waits: drink drink_ **

**_tom waits: gonna drink toniiite gonna drink toniiite_ **

**_tom waits: gonna drink gonna drink gonna drink toniiight_ **

**_tom waits: i wanna drink tonite_ **

**_tom waits: gonna drink toniiiiite_ **

Mary rolled her eyes.

**i’m changing your name in my phone now**

She chuckled as Robert’s contact name changed from “Tom Waits” to “Dolokhov”, and more messages came in.

**_dolokhov: listen, it’s your fault that’s the only part of that album that got engrained into my head_ **

Mary sighed.

**yeah, yeah, whatever. what time, and i presume jim n kims?**

**_dolokhov: 8, and ye_ **

Mary shook her head.

**:thumbs up:**

She pocketed the phone in her jacket, knowing that the conversation had ended. She saw that the printer was out of paper, and so she opened up a new ream to put into the machine. She wouldn’t say she was worried about Robert as much as she was curious about what was going on. He usually opened up his invitations to the bar with something about the season not being right for cryptid hunting, or some obscure wildlife fact that he had read during his late-night scouring of the internet. Musical lines from a musical she had him listen to once in the past month was odd, though.

Still, at least Mary knew that she had plans tonight.

***

Mary walked into the bar, scanning for that signature leather jacket. She eventually found it sitting at the bar, already slightly slumped over. She sighed, walking up to the seat next to it and nodding to Neil, who was already pulling down a wine glass for her.

“So I see you started without me,” she said, gently elbowing Robert’s arm. He looked up at her and sloppily smiled.

“You’re a few hours late for starting with me,” he replied, clearing his throat and swirling his empty cup around. Neil came over with her wine glass, and Mary looked up at him.

“Don’t give this one,” she said, pointing at Robert, “any more until he’s had a glass of water.”

“Hey,” Robert weakly replied, “why you gotta be watching over me like this?”

“My ‘motherly instincts’ say that you need to have at least some water,” she said, taking a sip of the wine. Robert chuckled as Neil cocked an eyebrow in Mary’s direction. He looked to Robert, who nodded, and grumbled something in agreement to the water request. As Neil went to get a new glass, Robert turned to Mary.

“Your ‘motherly instincts’ say to come to a bar and take care of your alcoholic friend,” Robert said, leaving the second half of the scathing statement in the air. Mary shrugged, knowing that he didn’t mean it maliciously, not in the way that Joseph usually meant it.

“Joseph’s home, and I was on kid duty last night.” She sets her wine glass down on the counter, running her finger along the rim. “Now it’s my turn to have some fun.”

Robert grunted in approval as Neil slid the glass of water to him. “It seems like The Game is gonna be division A, so I’ll be interested to see what happens.”

Mary chuckled. “You only watch The Game if you need a genuinely good distraction.” She looked at his face as he began sipping on the water. “Come on, what’s the scoop?”

Robert set the glass down on the counter and huffed. “Got a text,” he said, pulling out his phone and swiping it open to a conversation, then handed the phone to Mary. She took the phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen. As her eyes adjusted, Robert added on, “Tell me what you think.”

She glanced at the name, raising her eyebrows. Robert chuckled, and Mary read on.

**_Val: Hi, stranger._ **

**who are you**

**what have you done with my daughter’s phone**

**_Val: ah, the classic “we haven’t spoken in years so this must be a joke” gag_ **

Mary chortled at that.

**_Val: how hilarious._ **

**_Val: wanted to thank you for all the pizza you’ve sent me_ **

**:pizza emoji:**

**_Val: see you’re still good with words._ **

“Damn, she’s vicious,” Mary absently said, bringing the wine glass to her lips. Robert scowled.

**_Val: neway, my studio is hosting nyu’s photo grads studio exhibitions over the next month_ **

**_Val: think you’d enjoy at least a few of the photos_ **

**_Val: also i’m surrounded by cryptids who won’t eat pineapple_ **

**i’ll be there after i bag the dover ghost**

Mary looked up at Robert and handed the phone back to him as she took a gulp of the wine, the bitter tang hitting her throat before the grape flavor soothed it.

“Thoughts,” Robert asked, looking at Mary. She set the wine glass down.

“I dunno, depends on what you are actually thinking of doing, y’know?” Mary cocked an eyebrow. “I can only guess that she probably has good reason for wanting to see you.”

“Not really,” he replied gruffly, “She’s financially independent and hasn’t spoken to me in years.”

“Maybe she needs you to save her from those cryptids,” Mary said, smiling slightly when Robert chuckled a little.

“Maybe, Mary,” he mused, leaning on the counter, “maybe.” He plucked up an ice cube from his old whiskey glass and popped it into his mouth, staring Mary in the eye. She sat straight up.

“Don’t you dare--” she said, but cringed as she heard the crunch of broken ice as Robert made an exaggerated chewing motion. He laughed, attempting to keep the ice in his mouth, but a small part slipped out and he dove forward trying to catch it in his hands. Now Mary was laughing as Robert dropped the ice cube and pouted.

“Damn, I was hoping to continue my sensuous torture of your eardrums,” he jokingly said, and Mary groaned.

“God, Robert, you know how much I _hate_ the sound of crunching ice!”

“Now, is it the sound or the imagined sensation of biting down on the ice that makes you cringe,” he asked, smirking slightly.

“Like I’d tell you the answer to that,” she replied, smiling, “You’d just find other ways to horrify me if I told you.”

“Fair enough,” Robert said, picking up the water glass and finishing it off. Mary sighed, looking at her wine glass again and fiddling with the rim. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each with their drinks, before Mary cleared her throat.

“The one thing about kids is that they remind you very clearly of your own existence,” she said, and Robert grunted in agreement. “That you’re not alone in your own bubble of regret.”

“Or that they’re part of why you even have a bubble of regret,” Robert added, and Mary nodded, bringing the wine to her lips. Robert flagged down Neil again, and Neil smiled as he poured more whisky into Robert’s drink glass. They drink in silence for a few moments.

“Gotta be careful about who you let actually pop that bubble,” Mary says, and Robert cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Oh?” he quizzes, and Mary cocks an eyebrow back.

“I mean, you gotta find the sweetest way to break that harmony of sadness and self-hatred, y’know? Can’t just be for anyone,” she said, thinking about how Crish had sleepily jabbered at her in the early hours of the previous morning. He wasn’t very talkative around his siblings or his father, but it seemed that he had a whole specific set of random sounds only for Mary to hear. She couldn’t tell if the warm sensation in her chest was the alcohol or her slowly warming emotions for her youngest child.

She took a few gulps of wine to guarantee it was the alcohol.

Robert nodded. “I mean, I’m kinda used to just fucking around, doesn’t seem like I’ll find anyone worth crushing that bubble for anytime soon.”

Mary chuckled, setting the finished wine glass down. “Doesn’t have to be a fuck buddy, Robert. Maybe just a kind, compassionate face.”

Robert paused at that, frowning. “I find less of those than I find cryptids.”

Mary shrugged, and gazed into the distance. “I want to believe,” she said in a starstruck voice, then broke into a grin. Robert laughed.

“Listen, Mulder, I’m telling you, there’s no such thing as kindness out there in the grand cosmos,” he said, leaning towards Mary. “There ain’t no evidence for it.”

“Perhaps,” she replied. “But that doesn’t make the pursuit any less fun.”

She finished off her wine and tapped for another one. Robert sighed.

“But seriously, I told the kid I would go. But should I?” Mary looked at her friend, who was staring into the whiskey like it held the secrets of the world. Safety and comfort, sure, but probably not the answer to his question.

Mary shrugged. “Depends on the kind of guilt you want to have, I guess.” She stood up. “Now, I’m gonna go make some decisions that will leave me with fun guilt.”

Robert grunted in reply. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Relax,” she said, walking towards a familiar trucker’s face, “I can handle myself.”

***

Cassie unlocked the front door to the apartment and was greeted by a pacing Val, who appeared to be monologuing about the graces and virtues of the lavender window shades over the maroon window shades she held in her hands. She paused and looked up at Cassie, who was fine watching her girlfriend antagonize over aesthetics.

“Cassie,” she brightly said, “Which color should I put up for when my dad comes to visit?”

Cassie blinked. “Whoa, you’ve already got a response from him?”

Val sighed. “Well, kinda. More of a non-commital acknowledgement than anything, but just in case, y’know?” She was biting her lower lip, and Cassie sighed. There weren’t many things that truly made Val anxious enough to frit around like she was going to turn into a suburban soccer mom. Val was usually the picture of intense grace, much like a raven in a cemetery. Perfect belonging and peace, but with a hint of lethality underneath the slightly sharp exterior.

“I guess,” Cassie replied, striding forward and grabbing ahold of her girlfriend’s hand. “Come on, let’s make some food.”

Val was reluctantly tugged along to the kitchen, and she eventually set down the window shades on the table. Cassie let go of her hand and strode over to the cabinets to see what was available for them to make, and she heard Val sigh from her seat at the table. Cassie turned to look at her.

“It’s my dad,” Val said, “or rather, it’s what my dad isn’t doing.”

“Which is,” Cassie said, casually turning back to the cabinet. She saw a box of mashed potatoes and some of Val’s favorite spice mix, and pulled them out.

“He’s being… cryptic,” she said. “He said he would ‘be here after he bagged the Dover ghost’, which doesn’t really seem to indicate that he’ll actually come up to visit, but what if he does that ‘sneak visit’ thing that he used to do, which was somewhat cool when I was a little kid but is gonna be really annoying if he does it to crash the open house, and what if--”

“Hey,” Cassie said, crossing the room and crouching down to hold Val’s hands. “Listen, it’s okay to ask for clarification, to get specific dates and times and stuff.”

“But he most likely won’t respond, he most likely will think it’s too much of a hassle, because that’s what he’s always been like--”

“And if he does that, then we know that he’s still unreliable,” Cassie said. “And we’ll continue on without him, alright?”

Val looked into Cassie’s eyes, and Cassie saw the anxiety hiding there. The late nights during their senior year of college, where Val would cry about how she felt like her father had ceased to exist during middle school, how the version of him that she had known for the time after that was an alien to her. And how, no matter how much she hated herself for admitting it, she desperately wanted her father back. Cassie squeezed her hands, and Val squeezed back.

“Come on babe,” Cassie said, standing up, “let’s make some food, and get you fed, and watch some Netflix, alright?”

Val considered it, and weakly nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, and Cassie pulled her into a hug.

And Cassie swore that if Val’s father intentionally messed up anything, or made Val cry from old pains that she had been working to mend for years, she would find him and bag him the way Robert would the Dover Ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at @laramidianphantoms and @smolmerch on tumblr.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val stared at her phone. She didn’t know what to do or say. The paralyzing fear of being helpless and confused in the face of her father was overwhelming.
> 
> Maybe this is why I held onto anger for so long, she thought.
> 
> Anger, at least, was certain. It knew what it wanted, and it also knew it wasn’t getting it, and so it always steered towards a certain path: Away from harm. But uncertainty and confusion were the exact opposite of guiding. And deep down, she knew that they were the factors that led to the anger in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes!
> 
> 1) So I changed Val's girlfriend's name to Cassie, because I realized that the mental picture of who she was in my head was basically Carmensita but a fair amount older, and my brain noped out of there. So I'll be updating those chapters to accommodate for the change.
> 
> 2) This chapter was a bit harder to write due to some IRL things, as well as processing Val's feelings for Robert and figuring out what specifically is going on with my characterization of her. There's definitely going to be more explicit anxiety portrayed by Val and Robert throughout the series, since the flavors of depression I experience are anxiety-based.
> 
> 3) This chapter is a bit longer than the others, partially because this chapter was "late" and also because I'm not sure when the next chapter will be done. Hopefully I'll have something by the end of this week, but I'm just not sure.
> 
> 4) There is discussion of addiction in this chapter, both in a serious and in a joking way. Those themes will become more prevalent later in the story.
> 
> 5) If anyone is interested in beta-reading the story, feel free to hit me up! My tumblr urls are at the bottom of the chapter, and I would appreciate having someone else look over the story and make sure it's at least a cohesive spiral into projection onto the DDADDS characters.
> 
> Enjoy!

Val stared at her phone the following morning, thumbing at the phone case’s edge near the lower corner. Part of the plastic had recently broken off, and the rough edge compared to the rest of the smooth plastic was grounding for her. The bed she was sitting in was a little too soft to feel real at the moment, the only thing that existed was the phone.

_ Do I text him? _

She opened up the conversation, the last line in the conversation being about “the Dover Ghost”, which Val rolled her eyes at. Typical deflection response that he would give.

But instead of her mother receiving the answers this time, it was Val.

She huffed, falling backwards into her pillow. The morning light was creeping into the room, and Cassie stirred and turned towards Val.

“You still thinking about how to confront your dad?” Cassie yawned, reaching out for her girlfriend’s arm. Val huffed and turned towards Cassie, her electric blue hair tucked into a bun for sleep.

“Yeah.”

Cassie pulled herself closer, nuzzling into Val’s shoulder. “You have the rest of the day to think about what to say, send it, and antagonize over his eventual answer. Put the phone away and cuddle me before the alarm goes off.”

Val chuckled, setting the phone on her bedside stand and pulled Cassie closer, kissing her girlfriend’s forehead in the process.

***

A few minutes later, Val got an urgent call from one of the contractors working on setting up the studio for the NYU grads, and Val nearly flew out of her apartment 20 minutes later to meet up with the plumber to go over the damages done by the burst pipe in the main hall. Being the building manager of a community art studio was frustrating when the building itself was misbehaving, but she had grown familiar with the tricks the building pulled after the years she had spent hosting her own art in it.

But now she was busy watching as the drywall of the wall beneath the pipe was being replaced, and one of the contractors reminded her of her father. Not entirely, of course, the guy was a little shorter and lacked the Small intensity that she was most familiar with in her own reflection. But the gruffness, the jokes, the way he talked out what he was doing to the apprentice who was working with him felt familiar.

She made a comment, something about asthma and not wanting to inhale drywall dust, and left the hall and entered the garden out the back. Darren, the scheduling manager, was taking a drag on a cigarette.  _ Great, I can’t escape reminders of my dad _ . Darren looked at Val and smirked.

“Is it my turn to go babysit the contractors,” he asked, already dropping his cigarette butt and stomping it into the sidewalk.

“Yes, and you better go pick that up or else Cassie will have your head,” Val said, and Darren rolled his eyes as he reluctantly bent over to pick up the garbage.

“She’s a gardener, not my mom.”

“She worked damn hard on making sure the garden looked nice for that religious group that rented out the space for this evening, and you do know that  _ I _ will have to suffer the consequences of your bad actions,” Val snarked back, smirking when Darren lifted his hands up.

“Fair enough. And I do like the Mormons, they pay good money to use this space every year.” He grinned as Val rolled her eyes.

“Go make sure they’re not gonna pull a Kool-Aid Man stunt like the last apprentice did,” Val muttered. Darren barked out a laugh as he walked back into the building, and Val huffed as she saw Darren flick the cigarette butt into the gutter drain, lost forever to the ether of what she assumed was the Hudson. She pulled her phone out of her overalls, skimmed through her social media and emails, and not within 15 minutes she was staring again at the text conversation with her dad.

Val contemplated her options. She could continue to cat-and-mouse the conversation and live forever in the perpetual blank space of her dad’s bullshit replies and non-committal attitude, or she could be direct and tell him that she wanted an answer and get into a spat with him, the way her mother always used to.

She remembered one particular fight that had happened her senior year of high school. The Studio Art fight.

\--

_ “You said you were going to be there, Rob!” _

_ “You didn’t tell me a time!” _

_ “Yes I did! I texted it to you!” _

_ “I don’t have my phone on me when I do the contract calls, you know that!” _

_ “And  _ I _ shouldn’t have to  _ text you _ to remember to go to  _ your daughter’s art show _!” _

_ Faltering noises. Marilyn continued. _

_ “The fact that she wasn’t even surprised that you didn’t show up is probably the most telling thing, honestly. You’ve missed out on so much of her life at this point that you disappointing her isn’t a surprise.” _

_ “Well what the hell am I supposed to do? Barge in unwanted, because that sounds like that’s all I would be doing at this point!” _

_ “She wants--” _

_ “You heard what she said when I came in. She said ‘Why bother being around if you’re not going to be around for the important stuff?’ And sometimes I do wonder why I bother with this, with continually being a disappointment, with the drinking, the jobs, the gambling, the fighting, the bullshit of daily life. And if you have a good answer for it, then maybe enlighten me, because I can’t find it.” _

_ “Don’t deflect this into another pity party for yourself, Robert.” _

_ “Oh, and make this instead about how terrible of a person I am?” _

_ “I didn’t say that, you’re putting words in my mouth.” _

_ Some silence. _

_ “You’re right. I’m sorry.” _

_ Even more silence. _

_ “I just don’t know what to do.” _

_ A door closed somewhere. _

_ “I don’t know what to do either, sweetheart.” _

_ Quiet sobs. Eventually, the sound of some old TV show. _

_ \-- _

Val stared at her phone. She didn’t know what to do or say. The paralyzing fear of being helpless and confused in the face of her father was overwhelming.

_ Maybe this is why I held onto anger for so long,  _ she thought.

Anger, at least, was certain. It knew what it wanted, and it also knew it wasn’t getting it, and so it always steered towards a certain path: Away from harm. But uncertainty and confusion were the exact opposite of guiding. And deep down, she knew that they were the factors that led to the anger in the first place.

Val swallowed the sob that was welling in her throat. She stuffed the phone back into her overall pocket. She had a job to do right now, and she figured that Cassie would be the best person to talk out this sudden emotional revelation with. Preferably, over pizza.

***

Robert rolled over onto his back, the black-out curtains keeping the mid-afternoon sun from streaming into the room. The pounding in his head wasn’t greatly alleviated by the lack of sun, but he didn’t feel immediately ill as he sat up. He thanked his drunk self for having the sense to put a glass of water and some Advil on the night stand, and he swallowed the pain meds down.

The scrambling of small claws towards his room made him smile slightly, and Betsy’s head poked out from behind the ajar door. She scrambled over to the bed as Robert swung his legs to the side, and she licked his toes. He chuckled, reaching down and lifting the small boston terrier into his lap.

The night before had been relaxing, for once. Watching The Game hadn’t been something he’d felt able to do in a long time due to a combination of work and usually being too drunk to remember anything. But maybe Mary’s demand for water had been a good call. Not only did he see his favorite Team win The Game, he had some good conversation with the new neighbor, Charles. He stood up, setting Betsy down. She scrambled in front of him as they walked towards the kitchen, where he started up his coffee machine. The sound of a passing sedan made him look out the small window over the sink, and he saw a car pull into the new neighbor’s --Charles’ --driveway. A young woman stepped out, her olive green jacket rolled up to her elbows. Robert recognized the facial expressions she made as she pulled her backpack out of the back seat.

Just then, Charles opened the front door to the house, and Robert watched as Charles and the young woman embraced, and as Charles presumably teased the young woman, who reacted by ruffling Charles’ hair. They laughed, and went inside their house.

_ Great, he has a kid. A kid that actually likes him. _

Robert inhaled sharply and turned away from the window. He went about grabbing a mug and pulling a bagel out of the fridge in a slightly more aggravated manner, stuffing the bagel into his mouth as the coffee machine started pouring coffee into the mug that he hastily put underneath the spigot. Within a few moments, he found himself sitting at the kitchen counter, dipping his bagel into the too-hot coffee.

He pondered on the text conversation from the day before, the lack of response from Val particularly nagging at him. He had expected an argument, a demand for something more concrete than a half-joking quip about a cryptid.  _ Val has no expectations for you, not like Marilyn did _ , intruded into his musings. Memories of past spats with Marilyn flooded him, and he forgot to blow on his bagel before putting it in his mouth, scalding the surface of his tongue. He cursed, standing up and grabbing an ice cube from the freezer. Betsy pawed at his feet as he held the ice cube to his tongue, and Robert rolled his eyes.

“A few minutes,” Robert said aloud to Betsy, heading back to his room to put on a pair of sweatpants and some kind of shirt. He managed to grab a clean-appearing shirt that he had set aside for lounging days, and held the ice cube in his mouth as he put the clothes on his body. He was quickly regretting the ice cube, as the familiar strain of brain freeze took over his senses. It was still too big to swallow, and he didn’t want to deal with the consequences of biting the ice cube, so he ran into the bathroom to spit the ice cube out, placing his thumb on the roof of his mouth and breathing deeply. Betsy ran into the bathroom, lightly barking and nuzzling at Robert’s leg, and he gave the small dog reassuring pats on the head.

“Everything’s okay, your human is just being an idiot,” he said aloud.  _ Like always _ , he finished internally. But the slight burn of his self-deprecation was soon torn away by Betsy’s eager glances towards the door. He sighed as he followed Betsy’s little claw scratches towards the front door, and he slid his feet into the loafers he kept by the door for Betsy’s daytime walks. He grabbed the leash and hooked it onto her collar, and he stepped outside into the sunshine. Betsy soon took off on a run towards the end of the cul-de-sac, and Robert pushed aside thoughts of his failure as a father, a husband, a person.

_ I have a dog to take care of. I can push aside the self-hatred for at least 20 minutes. _

***

Val was kneading out the pizza dough as she talked to Cassie, who was chopping up some peppers.

“The thing is, I don’t know how my mom managed to never reach the point of genuine anger with him.”

Cassie hummed. “I mean, you weren’t living with them once you got to college. I feel like your mother probably had at least some anger, it’s natural to be angry.”

“I mean, she had to have been, I think,” Val replied, punching out a large air bubble. “I know that at one point she was considering a divorce.”

Cassie stopped chopping and looked over at her girlfriend. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Val continued, folding the dough over. “She told me that if Maple Bay didn’t work out the way that they both thought it would that she would leave him.”

“When was this?”

“Sophomore year,” Val said, punching the dough. “She claimed that he had actually been drinking less. That the gambling stopped.” Val paused. “She thought he was doing better.” Val punched the dough particularly hard, and the kneading board the dough was on moved a few inches. Cassie set down her knife and inched towards Val. They sat there in the silence for a few moments.

“She wanted me to try and reach out to him again. She said that if there was a tangible reward for his good behavior then he would stick to it,” Val finally said. Cassie held her breath. “That’s when I didn’t talk to Mom for a few months.”

Cassie sighed. Val was more playing with the kneaded dough than anything at this point, distracting herself with the way it stuck between her fingers.

“I was still angry at him. I don’t know why, but I was still angry at him, even though he had supposedly been doing better,” Val said, quietly. “But I think I was also scared."

“Scared?”

“Yeah.” Val sighed, grabbing the rolling pin and beginning to roll the dough out. “I was scared that, if I reached out, that the man I would be meeting wouldn’t be… my dad.”

Cassie hummed, and went back to chopping up the peppers. They spent a few minutes coordinating what would go on the pizza (“Honey, please, let me put pineapple on it.” “I’m not letting you put pineapple on my pizza!” “But it tastes so good!” “No.”), and Val started talking again once they had put the pizza in the oven.

“I guess I was scared that I wouldn’t see the person that I had admired as a young kid in him,” Val said. “Which is stupid, because for the short time that he was sober that year, my mom said that it was like she had fallen in love again.”

“True. But you and your mom are not the same people.” Cassie bumped shoulders with Val as they leaned against the counter, waiting a little bit before they made Val’s hawaiian monstrosity of a pizza.

“I mean, yeah,” Val shrugged non-commitally, “But I didn’t want to see Robert, the man my mom fell in love with. I wanted to see… my dad. And I thought that it had been too long, that he would either try and baby me or treat me like another adult. That he wouldn’t remember the stories we had constructed together, the little creatures he would whittle for me, the way we would make fun of terrible movies.” Her voice had gotten quieter, and Cassie wrapped her arms around Val’s shoulders.

“Because he had seemed to forget all of that in middle school and high school, and it felt like he was a stranger living in my house, and I was too scared of facing that stranger to find out if he was still going to be one to me,” she continued, sniffling. Cassie rubbed small circles into her shoulder with her thumbs, and Val leaned into the embrace. “I was stupid and spiteful and angry and scared and it’s my fault he started drinking again, it’s my fault, oh my god…”

“Shhhh,” Cassie began, holding her girlfriend close. “It’s not your fault. Can you breathe for me,” she started, and she felt Val nod against her neck. Cassie held her close as Val’s quiet sobs evened out into occasional hiccups. The oven timer dinged, and Cassie moved to get the pizza out, Val leaning against the counter still. Cassie shuffled the pizza off the pizza piel so that Val could use it to make the next pizza, and Cassie cleared her throat.

“I do mean it when I say it’s not your fault,” Cassie said, and she saw Val nod. “And, I mean, the thing about addiction is that it’s not a linear progression. Your dad’s sobriety hinges on multiple factors, and based on quite a few things from the years we’ve spent together, there’s definitely a family proclivity towards anxiety and depression, which are major risk factors for addiction.” Cassie turned to Val, who was placing pineapple slices between the canadian bacon on the pizza.

“And also probably major risk factors for liking pineapple on pizza,” Val quipped back, and Cassie chuckled.

“Ah, yes, the least harmful, but still devastating, addiction: hawaiian pizza,” Cassie replied, and Val barked out a laugh.

“The one vice I keep on me,” Val replied, looking at her girlfriend. “That, and cute girls.”

Cassie blushed. “I also know that you defer to things like flirting and being cryptic right after emotional outbursts, and I’ll let it slide, but I do think that we should construct a more forward reply to him some point soon.”

Val nodded, taking her pizza and putting it in the oven. She came back and put her head on Cassie’s shoulder.

“Thanks for letting me be… like this,” she said after a few moments, and Cassie kissed her forehead.

“Not a problem. We all need someone to talk to about these things.”

***

**_Val: Cryptids aside, I do want to know when specifically you plan to be in Manhattan._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at laramidianphantoms and smolmerch on tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was something about the way Val was falling apart with her father that made Cassie uneasy. She had been hopeful at first when Val wasn’t made upset by the cigar box, but now that Val had cried and had a panic attack due to the stress, she was much more wary. Cassie hadn’t expected her own internal reflexes to protect to flare up so quickly, but it had also been quite some time since the last time Val had been this distressed by family matters. Not since before they started dating, when Marilyn died."
> 
> A text, a panic attack, a barbecue, and a therapy book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many things.
> 
> 1) Sorry for the lack of update over the past two weeks! I was preparing to move across the country, and then spent a week with some relatives.
> 
> 2) Cassie is as great as she is because she works hard to be great. This is one of the chapters where we'll be seeing more of the process behind that, as well as what her thoughts about the situation is so far.
> 
> 3) I'm still trying to get a hang of Actively Depressed Robert Small that isn't necessarily the dissociated variety that I am most familiar with. It's gonna take a while to get there, but if anyone has any tips/suggestions, feel free to let me know!
> 
> 4) Crish must be protected at all costs. I love him.
> 
> 5) Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life is an actual book that one of my relatives that I visited this past week recommend that I read. From the snippets they shared with me, it seems very helpful, so I'll be reading through it both to cope with my own issues with my toxic parent, and so that I can better write from Val's perspective, since she will also be reading through the book.
> 
> 6) there are slight hints of past Joseph/Robert in here, but I am not sure it's tag-worthy yet since I don't plan on diving into /that/ mess until later on in the series.
> 
> Alright, I think that's it in terms of notes here.

**_Val: Cryptids aside, I do want to know when specifically you plan to be in Manhattan._ **

Robert was preparing to put in Kill Bill Volume 1 into his DVD player when the text came in. He sat on the couch, fiddling with the phone as the opening scene and credits played through. He sighed and tossed the phone onto the couch cushion next to him, rubbing his face.  _ I don’t want to think about this right now. _

Just then, another text came through. Robert groaned and picked up the phone, raising his eyebrows when he saw it wasn’t from Val.

**_Mary: hey nerd, barbecue tomorrow starting at 4pm. I’ll poke by tomorrow to make sure you’re awake to grab stuff so that you can’t miss it (like you did last time)_ **

Robert sighed, setting the phone down and rubbing his face again. He didn’t want to go to the barbecue, he really didn’t want to see Joseph, and he  _ really _ didn’t want to see all the other dads in the neighborhood interacting with their children. Most of them had decent interactions with their kids, and the ones who didn’t were actually present enough to be there for the unpleasantness that was being a parent. Something that Robert had come to realize he never was.

He stood up and went to the drink cabinet, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. After spending the late afternoon and evening finishing up a safety manual he was ghost writing, he didn’t want to think about anything, but especially not his failure in parenting, in his career, in his life.

So instead, he sipped his whiskey and fell asleep to the sound of katanas slicing through limbs as Uma Thurman sought out her revenge.

***

It was the weekend, and so Cassie customarily rolled over to embrace her girlfriend in the late morning light that seeped through the room. But Val wasn’t in bed, and as Cassie patted around, she found that the side of the bed that Val was usually on was empty. She sighed and stuffed her face in the pillow.

Val had been incredibly anxious ever since starting the text conversation with Robert, and Cassie was doing her best to be as supportive as she could be. But she could feel the anger creeping under her skin, the conversations from her own past trying to voice themselves.  _ You shouldn’t be here! You don’t deserve her! You should be grateful that she’s even trying to open up to you! _ Cassie sat up and scrunched her face.

“This is her choice,” she muttered to herself. “I cannot control what happens, or what feelings come up. I cannot, and will not, let myself become what hurt me.” She breathed out and let her face relax, and she got up to use the bathroom.

As she washed her hands and splashed water on her face, she paused and heard soft sobs broken by fast breathing coming from the wall between the bathroom and what she and Val had decided would be the art room. Cassie gripped the counter.

“I cannot control what happens, or what feelings come up,” she muttered again, and she moved out of the bathroom and knocked lightly on the art room door. She heard a sniffle, and a very quiet ‘come in’ from behind the door. She pushed the door open and spotted Val curled up in the large chair over by the computer in the room, some photos of the studio up on the screen. Cassie felt a surge of rage, and she internally gawked.  _ Why am I angry? I shouldn’t be angry, not right now _ , she thought, and she took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

“Hey chickpea,” Cassie gently said, walking over. Val looked up at Cassie and attempted a small smile, though her face began falling apart again, and her breathing started getting faster as she curled in on herself more. Cassie felt her temper start to flare, but she paused and took a breath.

“Hey, breathe with me,” Cassie said, crouching down by the chair. “Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four,” she repeated for several minutes, watching as Val slowly brought her breathing down to a more manageable pace. Val reached her hand out and Cassie took it, and was shocked by the forceful grip that Val grabbed back with. Cassie did her best to push her frustration down, since she didn’t have a way of articulating it in a way that wouldn’t hurt Val. But she also knew that she needed to go do something else for at least a little while, give her some space to think about what she was feeling, and why.

“So, I’m thinking of going shopping, maybe stopping by the library for an hour or so, will you be safe to stay here by yourself?”

Val peeked from behind her knees and blinked. “Uh, sure, I guess.” Her voice was shaky, and Cassie felt another surge of rage that she slowly breathed out. “Do you want me to come with, or is this one of those days where you need the space.”

Cassie sighed, knowing that she was, ultimately, taking the lesser of two evils. “Just for a few hours. I’ll be back, I just need some time to think.”

“It’s my fault,” Val said, and she hid behind her knees again, loosening her grip in an attempt to escape Cassie’s hand. Cassie let it go and straightened up so that she was kneeling next to Val.

“No, chickpea, it’s not your fault,” Cassie said. “I just am having a lot of feelings at the moment and need to spend some time thinking about what they are,” she paused, taking a breath, “and why I’m feeling them. And I promise I’ll let you know once I think I know what they are, alright?”

Val lightly nodded, and looked at Cassie with tears in her eyes.

“I love you, and I’m sorry,” Val whispered. Cassie stretched her arms out.

“Can I hug you,” Cassie asked, and was met with a tight hug from Val, who clambered out of the chair to meet her girlfriend’s arms. Cassie let a breath that she had been holding as she realized that, yes, Val was  _ there _ , and she was  _ safe _ , and that there wasn’t any need to fight, for the moment.

“I love you too,” she said back to Val. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling right now.” She felt Val nod into her shoulder. Cassie loosened her half of the hug, and Val followed, slightly frowning as she wiped some tears from her eyes.

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” Cassie said, standing up. Val nodded, and Cassie turned out of the room to go get dressed.

***

Mary reached up to the small molding that framed Robert’s front door and felt for the spare key that he kept up there. She knocked it down onto the cement door base and smirked.  _ He really shouldn’t leave it in such an obvious place _ , she thought as she picked it up and let herself into the house. She saw Betsy appear just behind the door, and she bent down and gave the small dog a scratch on the head.

“Robert,” she called out, and she heard a grunt and some startled movement from the living room just beyond the entryway. She rolled her eyes and peeked her head around the small wall, seeing Robert sitting upright on the couch. She paid no mind to the clothes strewn about the place, or the glasses and empty bottles at the ends of the couches and on the coffee table, or the DVD menu on the screen that probably had been on for several hours.  _ I certainly hope that menu didn’t get burned into the screen _ was the only major thought, but the rest didn’t bother her.

Certainly bothered Joseph, though most things about Robert Small bothered Joseph, but that was why she was over here.   
  
**

_ “Hey Mary,” Joseph called into the room where she was watching Crish line up his toys in a row. “Can you check in on Robert and make sure that he’s doing okay?” _

_ Mary rolled her eyes. “You know, you can just say that you want me to make sure he doesn’t try to start drama at the barbecue tomorrow.” _

_ Joseph huffed. “You know that’s only part of my concern for him.” _

_ “I know, but I don’t want to know about the rest of it,” she said, and she heard a sigh from Joseph as he walked away. She sent Robert a text, and went back to observing Crish’s odd ways of playing with his toys. _

***

At this point in their relationship, Mary knew that she was reconnaissance for many of the ways in which Joseph fell short as a preacher, a friend, a father. Where Joseph’s saccharine sweetness left painful cavities, Mary filled in with her abrasive amalgam of tough love but steady support. So long as she didn’t get burned in the process.

And so far, neither Robert or Crish had hurt her in a way that she wasn’t already hurting herself by continuing with the madness that was her marriage.

She pushed the thoughts aside as she strode into Robert’s kitchen to see what was in his fridge, what things he could potentially bring to the barbecue.

“I was planning on getting a veggie platter,” Robert said from the other side of the counter, and Mary chuckled.

“We’ve already got one,” she said, “And Damien is bringing the potato salad, so don’t go for that this time around.”

She heard Robert sigh behind her. “What if… I brought a veggie platter, and a few boxes of those crack cookies that Joseph hates?”

Mary cackled and turned around to Robert. “Those ones that we ate a box of that one time we got so drunk we ended up in the next town?”

Looking at Robert, she could see that he was holding himself defensively. He nodded, popping a smirk. “And we vomited rainbows.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Go get showered, and be sure to come by with that veggie platter and those cookies.” She started to walk out, but paused at the door. “Also, I’ll be sure to have the good stuff ready for you as soon as you get there. Also also,” she paused, turning to Robert and tossing him the key she used to get into the house. He managed to grab them, amazingly enough. “Put those in a more secure place.”

She saw Robert nod, and she left the house.

***

Cassie’s fast and fairly forceful footfalls as she strode out of the store matched the tempo of the music blaring in her ears. While she did not usually listen to Disturbed these days, she found the righteous anger in the lyrics to fit her mood fairly well.

There was something about the way Val was falling apart with her father that made Cassie uneasy. She had been hopeful at first when Val wasn’t made upset by the cigar box, but now that Val had cried and had a panic attack due to the stress, she was much more wary. Cassie hadn’t expected her own internal reflexes to protect to flare up so quickly, but it had also been quite some time since the last time Val had been this distressed by family matters. Not since before they started dating, when Marilyn died.

Back then, it hadn’t been nearly as intense. Val had been full of anger at her father, and had been seeing a therapist to help with grief. And Cassie was still only a friend even if they lived together at that point. They hadn’t been sleeping in the same bed, sharing the same rooms, holding hands and sharing kisses. Back then, it had been clear that Val had been hurting, but Cassie wasn’t entangled in seeing the minutae of the ups and downs, the small mood fluctuations that she just wanted to  _ fix _ and make be okay, the inescapable fact that she couldn’t just magically fix everything so that she’d never have to see her girlfriend feel terrible ever again.

Feeling, and allowing other people those feelings, was a learned skill. It didn’t come as naturally to her as fixing things did.

She walked down the street for a few blocks, letting  _ Get Down With The Sickness _ help move her anger along.  _ Anger is a natural response to fear _ , she thought.  _ I am allowed to feel angry. I am not hurting anyone by being angry right now. Anger isn’t bad. _

There was something so terrifying about feeling anger and frustration so acutely. Maybe it was the way she had seen it eat her own mother alive, especially in the days following her dad going on disability. Her mother had always been so patient with her father’s needs and wants, but had always been upset when Cassie would ask questions or want something.  _ You’re fine, you don’t need anything, why do you keep bugging me? Do you want me to be unable to take care of your father? What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out of my sight-- _

Cassie stopped outside of the library, breathing out.

“You were my mother, and you should have taken care of me. I was your responsibility, just as much as Dad was. You should have been there,” she muttered out loud as she went into the library.

She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she did know that the heavy metal blaring in her ears was now too much. The anger had run its course, now all she wanted was some calm. She pulled out her phone and switched the music to some instrumental playlist, letting the notes wash over the remaining embers of annoyance. And out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a book that she had given away in college. An old, dog-eared copy of  _ Toxic Parents _ .

Cassie gravitated towards it, and wondered if she was due for a re-read. And then she wondered if, perhaps, it would be good for Val to read as well. It would be the closest thing that Val would accept in terms of somewhat professional help, and Cassie knew that her girlfriend would need as much help as she could get with the process of trying to get in contact with Robert. And, perhaps, it would help Cassie feel like it wasn’t just her and Val alone in this world, blustering about with no idea of what to expect from him.

***

Robert checked out his groceries at the self-service station, a veggie platter with hummus instead of ranch in the center and a few boxes of Lofthouse ‘crack’ cookies, as well as a small bag of dog food for Betsy. He knew he’d have to stop by one of the pet stores in the next few days to properly stock up on food for her, but he hoped this would tide her over for the next day or so as he recuperated from the barbecue.

Everything felt a little more clear than normal. The lines marking boundaries between objects more evident, the colors a little more brilliant. It made his head hurt, but he was also not going to be totally drunk at a barbecue that Joseph hosted. Or totally drunk anywhere near Joseph at all. But he also knew that Mary would be there to help him, there to make sure that nothing happened.

Thank God for Mary.

He strode out of the store and into his truck, and drove to the cul-de-sac, musing on what Val had said. Somehow, even though he had given Val no reason to expect anything from him, she needed to know, needed clarification.  _ Much like Marilyn _ , his brain supplied, and he huffed.

Marilyn had been… helpful for him, even if in the end of it all she was only a few more nights of black-out drunk fights away from divorce papers. There was something motivating about that small kick of shame he felt when Marilyn was forgiving of the lesser evils he found himself indulging in during their short time at Maple Bay. There was a reason why he had so, so many movies.

There was one in particular that Marilyn would watch with him, because he only watched it when he was too sad to even muster the energy to drink. At his most sober, his most sad, there was something wonderful about  _ Groundhog Day _ .

***

_ “Rob, you’ve watched this at least five times in the past two days,” she said, sitting down next to him with a bowl of grapes. Robert scoffed, but went ahead and grabbed a few. Marilyn had traded out the popcorn for grapes after it was clear that it was another movie day. _

_ “S’ good movie,” Robert replied, watching as Bill Murray dryly discussed the weather and the Punxsutawney Phil extraction. Marilyn hummed in response, and they let the movie play on. They didn’t need to rehash the conversation about how there was something satisfying about seeing Bill Murray’s character change over time in his endless timeloop, that he somehow learned how to be a better person in what seemed like a blink of an eye. That Robert wished he could be like that, that he felt like that would be the only way to consider living  in a way that was better than what he got. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ ***

He found himself walking into the backyard of the Christiansen house, where Mary was spinning Crish around. Robert paused to watch a version of Mary that he hadn’t seen before: a smile as she babbled back at Crish, who was gripping her necklace. Robert looked away at the hints of joy that Mary was exuding and cleared his throat, looking back at her as she turned to look at him.

“Oh, uh,” she stuttered, looking for a place to set Crish down, and Robert held his free hand up.

“Not a problem,” he replied, “don’t mind the little redhead being here.”

Mary relaxed a little, walking over to Robert. While he couldn’t say that he wasn’t lying about Crish being present, he certainly didn’t feel the stab of self-deprication as strongly as he did before. There was something a little more hopeful in the particular pricks of emotional pain that Crish’s mischievous changeling glare gave him.

“The food can go on that table,” Mary said, turning her head towards the table in the corner of the yard. Robert moved to place his offerings there, and when he turned back to Mary he was surprised to see that she seemed to be trying to play the indifferent cool that he was used to seeing, but failing miserably with how Crish was babbling incessantly in her face. She walked over, and Robert huffed.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend that you don’t like your kids when you’re around me,” Robert said. Mary cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t  _ dislike _ my kids, they’re just… exhausting,” she said, huffing slightly. “This one especially,” she continued, ruffling Crish’s hair. He giggled, and Robert closed his eyes as he tried to let himself forget just how close the small kid’s laugh was to Val’s baby laughs.

“So,” Mary said, “You didn’t come over  _ early _ just to have some emotional turmoil without some resolution. And you certainly didn’t come to help Joseph.” She looked towards the house, where Joseph was busy helping Christina finish up the cookies. The impish Christian was standing nearby with an Aquaman toy, and Chris was… somewhere.

“I guess,” Robert said. “I’m still trying to decide how to respond to Val’s text she sent last night.”

Mary cocked an eyebrow. “What’d it say?”

Robert shrugged. “She wants to know if I’m actually going to be visiting her.”

“Are you?”

Robert paused. On the one hand, he could just never respond, he could continue to not hurt her through his desperate attempts to atone for his past. But on the other hand, there must have been something painful and vulnerable in Val asking about specifics. After years of her no longer giving him details of her life, she had laid out for him a specific place and event, and asked for if he was even going to make it. Val was leaving her doors open for him, and there was some small part of him that wanted to go through it. The same part that was always grateful when Marilyn would let him back into his life as well.

He nodded, and sighed. “I think I might try to.”

Mary gave a small smile. “I think we’re both trying to… do something.” Robert nodded, and he noticed how Mary held Crish more delicately, and securely, than he’d ever seen her hold or carry the other kid when they were younger, or the bake sale goods. It reminded her of that time they  _ had _ vomited rainbows in the neighboring town, and Mary had started to sober up faster than him. How she had wrapped her arm around his taller shoulders and steered him towards the taxi that took them home as he had sobbed about the rainbow not tasting as sweet as that candy commercial had said it did. Robert smiled back, and Crish took the moment to let out an unearthly screech.

Mary looked towards the house. “Crish should probably head to a nap, before he gets overstimulated by all the people that will becoming soon,” she said, and Robert nodded. “And after I set him down, I’ll get you the good whiskey I keep.”

Robert chuckled and watched Mary go into the house. Crish wailed in Robert’s direction as Mary opened the back door to the house, and Robert stared Crish down, playfully. Crish paused in his screeching and grinned, and Robert smiled back slightly as the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at @smolmerch and @laramidianphantoms on tumblr!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “SHUT UP WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU,” Val weakly screamed along to a very loud Linkin Park song in her late 2000’s black Mustang. She really appreciated the sound system she had equipped it with, and she delighted in watching the reactions of pedestrians as she drove aimlessly around the outskirts of Brooklyn. But now that the yelling and screaming and unresolved frustration had been sated, she was getting hungry, and she figured that she should probably head home.
> 
> Her mom wouldn’t have been proud of how much gas she was wasting on her approaching-three-hours-long drive around the city, but Val knew that she had more than made up for it with all the walking around she did in the city without her car, and that her mom wouldn’t actually be disappointed in her. Dad was always there to be a bigger failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'll have more notes at the end this time, but to start:
> 
> 1) I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Been trying to gather the spoons to apply to a job, and I also haven't gotten access to the Toxic Parents book yet. But I finally hammered this one out.
> 
> 2) Before the next chapter gets published, I'm working on a tag-along story, which I'll elaborate more on in the lower notes.
> 
> 3) This... definitely isn't the greatest chapter. I'm still trying to find my general writing groove, and really get myself into the main characters more.
> 
> Welp, enjoy?

It was a little after noon when Val finally felt sturdy enough on her feet to stand up and walk around. Panic attacks always sapped a lot of energy out of her, and while she knew she needed food to feel better, it was still… exhausting to think about getting up to grab something.

She wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl from an open cabinet, plucking a spoon from the utensil drawer as she made her way towards the fridge. She paused and stared at the cereals for a bit, not wanting to have to make the decision of which one to eat. Val closed her eyes and picked blindly, huffing slightly at the frosted flakes she started pouring into her bowl.

Within a few minutes, she found herself settled on the futon in the living room, bowl of cereal in her lap, remote in her hand, as she flipped through the Netflix account synced to the screen. _Bojack Horseman?_ _Rick and Morty?_

_ Stranger Things. Stranger Things will be fine _ .

There was something calming about the 80’s aesthetic that graced the screen, the late fall colors and season that the show was set in. Watching the kids play Dungeons and Dragons, watching the teenagers act stupidly in lust, the adults doing their best to keep their calm.

_ Dad would like this show, _ she thought. She huffed.  _ If he’s still around. _

Val put her attention back to the screen, and to the remains of her bowl of cereal. She told herself she wasn’t going to cry anymore, not today. Maybe a little more in the shower, after this first episode. But no more after that.

***

Barbara had just been dragged into the pool when Cassie walked into the house around 3PM, bag of groceries on her shoulder. Val paused the show and looked up at her girlfriend, giving her a small smile. She could see that Cassie seemed a bit more relaxed, but also like she was on a mission.

“Hi punk,” Val said, and Cassie pulled her earbuds out of her ears.

“Hey chickpea,” she replied, and Cassie strode over to the futon and held out a hand, which Val gripped. She looked to the TV. “Whatcha watchin’?”

“Some Weirder Stuff,” Val said. Cassie chuckled. “This kid just drowned in the pool, left alone by her peers.” Val put on her deadpan face as Cassie turned to look back at her.

“Babe, we’ve seen the show--”

“It was clearly amicicide,” Val said, voice grave. They stared at each other, and after a moment Cassie bust up laughing.

“Chickpea, where do you get these words from,” she giggled, sitting down next to Val.

“I learned them in my many travels as a young child,” Val said, tone still serious. “My ma and pa were contract killers, you see--”

“I’m guessing your dad was the main man at work?”

“My ma, actually. She was a very well-trained nurse and knew what exactly to do to make it look like an accident,” Val continued, looking seriously at her girlfriend. She could tell that Cassie was holding in some serious laughter. She continued, “Anyways, they would take me on their long roadtrips across the country, and they would listen to suspense thrillers on tape. You learn a lot about death and killing when you travel with contract killers who listen to Dean Koontz for fun.”

Cassie let out the laughs she had contained, and Val cracked a smile.

“Dean Koontz?” Cassie wheezed between laughs.

“Shut up, he was my mom’s favorite,” Val muttered, grinning wildly. “Those only came on when she drove, though.”

Cassie continued to chuckle, shaking her head. “Your mom wouldn’t have hurt a soul.”

“Oh no, you’ve seen through my clever deception. I was the contract killer the entire time,” Val dryly replied, and Cassie lightly pushed her shoulder. Val grinned again as Cassie leaned on her. After a few moments of silence, Cassie cleared her throat.

“So uh, hate to destroy the mood, but I brought home a book I think might be interesting for you to read,” Cassie said, and Val quirked an eyebrow. Cassie pulled out a blue and white book from the bag of groceries, a library tag clearly taped onto the front of the paperback. She handed it to Val, who took it and read the title.  _ Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life _ . She cocked an eyebrow in Cassie’s direction.

“A self-help book,” she asked, and Cassie shrugged.

“It was pretty helpful for me when shit went down with my mom, I figured it might be helpful in navigating things with Robert,” Cassie replied. Val opened the book up to the table of contents and found a clearly delineated section for alcoholic parents in bold letters.

“I mean, he never hurt me,” Val mused.

“But… you also don’t talk to him, and you’ve been panicking a lot in the past few days because you’re trying to reconnect with him,” Cassie replied. “I mean, there’s probably something in the book that will be somewhat helpful to you.”

Val shrugged. She closed the book and breathed deeply.  _ Five things I feel: My wet hair, from the shower. The futon cushion against my back. Cassie’s arm against mine. The remote, against my thigh. An overwhelming need to yell, in my chest. _

_ Why do I need to yell? _

Val opened her eyes and looked at Cassie, who was looking at her with concern.

“Chickpea?”

Val stood up, setting the book down. “I… gotta go drive around for a bit,” she said. She pulled Cassie up and brought her into a hug. “Got some Linkin Park I need to scream along to, I think.”

Cassie nodded and squeezed Val’s shoulders with her hands. “I know the feeling too well,” she replied, and Val let go of her to get fully dressed for driving around.

***

The barbecue wasn’t a totally painful disaster, surprisingly enough. Even though somehow he found himself talking to Brian a majority of the time after making pleasantries with everyone. He didn’t have much of a problem with Brian when he wasn’t talking about his daughter all the time, they found a lot of common ground in talking about construction.

“So I’m putting the banister up on this wall, and my drill dives  _ right through it _ ,” Brian continues, and Robert chuckles.

“Damn, pushed on the bit too hard, then?” Robert passively smiles as Brian tosses his hands in the air.

“Something, I guess,” Brian continues. Robert notices Charles and his daughter walk into the Christiansen back yard, and watches as Charles sets down a third veggie tray onto the main table, and Brian clears his throat.

“Joseph being a jerk again,” Brian lowly asks, and Robert shakes his head.

“Nah, new neighbor,” Robert replies, and Brian turns around and smiles.

“Ah, Charles!” he says, turning back to Robert. “We should wave him over here, get to know him better.”

Robert grips his glass of what he’s affectionately named “Mary’s Whiskey” in his hand as he braces for the incoming new neighbor, and the glass only relaxes in his hand after he’s mortified Brian with a story about Johnny-boy, from his Army days.  _ Don’t think about it too hard _ , Robert thinks to himself as Daisy and Charles’ kid run by, saying things about ghosts.

_ I can do ghosts _ , he thinks, and he joins in briefly on that discussion, horrifying Brian again. He can’t get a read on what Charles thinks of what he’s saying, and before too long Charles is neighbor-hopping. Brian turns back to Robert.

“That thing you do,” Brian begins, and Robert cocks an eyebrow at him.

“The thing I do?”

“You know, the story thing,” Brian continues. “You only do that when you really want to try and either drive them away or get to know them really well.”

Robert half-shrugs. “Can’t get a read on him, gotta figure out how he reacts to my shit.”

Brian shakes his head. “Fair enough. Hey, you want me to come work on your hedges tomorrow? They’re starting to sag.”

Robert considers it briefly. “Sure. I’ll give you a 20 for them.”

“Nah, free of charge,” Brian says. “It’s the special ‘you’re my neighbor’ deal, just don’t tell anyone I said so.”

Robert rolls his eyes in response. “Sure, dude.”

Joseph calls out something about the grill, and Robert joins in the general dad congregation to make the children upset with dad puns, which goes well when Charles’ kid yells loudly. Robert smiles slightly, reminded vaguely of a very young Val in a truck being exposed to Dad jokes for the first time.

He’s nursing his cheeseburger in his hand when Mary bumps his arm with her shoulder.

“Hey nerd,” she says, biting into a large sprig of celery. “Need a whiskey refill?”

“Sure,” Robert replies, and Mary takes his cup towards the table, where the whiskey is strategically placed behind several bottles of fruit punch and lemonade. Robert follows, and Mary looks up towards a window in the house.

“Crish is probably awake by now,” she muses, pulling out the whiskey and filling Robert’s glass.

“Think he’d want to come down here?”

“Want to? No. Be forced to by Joseph? Maybe,” Mary scoffed, watching as Joseph went inside the house. Mary capped the whiskey and handed the glass back to Robert.

“The kid seems to struggle a lot with people,” Robert said. Mary shrugged.

“At least I have someone to commiserate with, besides you and Damien,” she said, biting off another chunk of celery. Robert hums.

“Damien’s a good kid,” he says, and Mary nods.

“My special boy,” she replies. Robert just hums again. He pulls out his phone, checking both the time and to see if Val has sent him another text.  _ I should reply. _

“I’m probably gonna head out,” Robert says, and he sees Mary nod from the corner of his eye.

“Do what you gotta do, sailor,” she says, and he looks at her. They share a stare, one that seems to say  _ good luck _ . Robert steps away, breaking eye contact with Mary as Joseph walks onto the porch with a very withdrawn Crish on his shoulder. He waves to the passing neighbors and shares a look with Charles’ kid, who shoots finger guns at him. He grins slightly, and as he passes the gate of the backyard he hears the familiar whine of an unsettled toddler.

He looks at his phone again and opens to his conversation with Val.

**when would be the best time for me to come by?**

***

Cassie decided to start watching Stranger Things from the beginning, so that she might be at least caught up with Val by the time she got home. She understood the need for Val to go driving, it was something that she did every now and then to clear her mind of the frustrations from work, from life, and at one point, from school and family. Cassie knew that she was going to be fine.

But her concentration on the way Steve drank from the can by the poolside was broken by an unusual buzzing pattern from the kitchen. She paused the show and stood up, walking over towards the table, where Val’s phone was. Cassie sighed, and tapped on the phone. There was a notification from Robert.

Cassie tapped the phone screen off and pushed it towards the center of the table. The sun was starting to set behind the skyline of the city, and she sighed again.  _ Val will probably want some comfort food when she gets home _ , she thought, and she strode through the kitchen, gathering ingredients for homemade cheesy noodles into a large pot.  _ Besides, she’s cute when she eats cheesy noodles. _ She smiled as she put the ingredients on the counter and filled the pot with water.

***

It had been a delightful barbecue. Joseph’s careful grilling of the boca burgers that Lucien had requested was wonderful, and the conversation he had with the chef was calm, albeit calculated.

Even two and a half years later, Damien found himself on guard when he talked to Joseph. He had no idea if the blonde minister knew about his scandalous misdeeds against Mary, and though villainizing him was easy in the comforts of his own abode, meeting the man face-to-face always brought Damien’s opinion of him back to a very complicated drawing board. The kindness towards his neighbors and children, the courtesy he gave towards Damien’s ramblings about Victorian-era dress standards and latest realty projects, his skilled cooking, all of them conflicted with the cuckold that Joseph’s past actions painted in Damien’s mind.

But still, he was kind enough to the minister.

He heard the familiar chime of his phone on the desk next to him, and Damien set down his copy of  _ Jurassic Park _ to look at the message that flit across his screen.

**_Mary Christiansen: hey dames, where did u go for ur autism eval? joseph wants me to get crish evaluated_ **

Damien sighed as he tapped out a response.

**The Mill Creek Developmental Clinic has a paediatric department that would be the best suited for potentially screening Crish for an autism spectrum disorder. I can recommend to you a specific specialist I worked with who also works with young children, I’ll send you along her contact information via email.**

Damien tapped into his email account and sent an email to Mary, as well as to the doctor, letting her know that Mary would be in contact. Soon, an incoming text came in.

**_Mary Christiansen: thanks, ur the best! X_ **

Damien set his phone aside and looked out the window. The evening sun was now securely tucked in under the cover of the trees of the nearby forest, and Damien stood up and strode over to the window of his large library. Across the way, he could see the Cahn twins jumping on the trampoline in their backyard. Daisy a0nd Brian were sitting on a porch swing, reading. The Sella house was lit up pleasantly. The Sotheby’s house was slightly dark, but there was clear activity coming from an auxiliary room.  _ Amanda, possibly listening to music, much like Lucien, _ he mused to himself as another My Chemical Romance song began on the opposite side of the house.

The Christiansen house, tucked away in relative darkness, as the children were probably being put to bed. He gazed over to Robert’s house and was surprised to see Robert standing outside, with his dog Betsy on a leash. Damien watched as Robert was led across the front of the Bloodmarch house by the small boston terrier, and Robert glanced up at the house. He caught Damien’s eye, and waved.

Damien broodily nodded back, and he saw Robert’s chuckle from twenty feet below. The man in the leather jacket continued to walk along, Betsy pausing to sniff at Ernest Vega’s skateboard that was in the front yard. Damien huffed lightly as he watched Robert’s retreating figure.

_ It’s good to see him out and about _ , he thought.  _ I should check in on him, one of these days. _

***

“SHUT UP WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU,” Val  weakly screamed along to a very loud Linkin Park song in her late 2000’s black Mustang. She really appreciated the sound system she had equipped it with, and she delighted in watching the reactions of pedestrians as she drove aimlessly around the outskirts of Brooklyn. But now that the yelling and screaming and unresolved frustration had been sated, she was getting hungry, and she figured that she should probably head home.

Her mom wouldn’t have been proud of how much gas she was wasting on her approaching-three-hours-long drive around the city, but Val knew that she had more than made up for it with all the walking around she did in the city without her car, and that her mom wouldn’t actually be disappointed in her.  _ Dad was always there to be a bigger failure _ .

She sighed as she pulled up in front of the apartment complex and pulled into her assigned parking spot, turning down the music to more appropriate levels before turning the car off. She stepped out and walked up the steps to the second-level apartment, and was greeted with the smell of freshly made cheesy noodles when she opened the door.

“Mmm,” Val loudly hummed as she closed the door behind her. “Hey curly-fry, I’m home,” she called out, and Cassie popped her head out of the kitchen.

“Just in time,” Cassie replied, “these noodles were starting to beg to be eaten!”

Val laughed as she entered the kitchen threshold, where Cassie was placing the pot of noodles onto the table.

“Can you get the dishes,” Cassie asked, and Val nodded in response. She brought bowls and utensils over, and Cassie leaned over her and kissed her cheek in gratitude.

“Thanks, chickpea,” Cassie said, and Val smiled as they sat down to eat. Val brought a bite to her mouth when she saw her phone blink with a text notification. She pulled the phone over and tapped on the screen.

**_Robert: when would be the best time for me to come by?_ **

“Holy shit,” Val said. “He is actually asking when it would be best for him to come to the city.”

Cassie set her fork down. “Whoa.”

“This… this is big,” Val said, grinning wildly. “Oh my god.”

“So, what are you gonna say back?” Cassie was leaning forward and looking at Val from across the small table.

Val leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Well, the exhibition starts next weekend and runs until mid-May, but we’ll be busy with the first influx during the first week, and then there will bea rush of people who will come in right as the exhibition is ending…”

“So, maybe end of April, beginning of May,” Cassie posited, and Val nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she thought outloud, tapping a response to him.

**would late April/early May work for you?**

She paused, looking up at Cassie.

“Am I ready to send this?”

“I dunno, babe. Are you?”

Val thought for a moment, and took a deep breath as she pushed the ‘send’ button. She nearly threw the phone face-down on the table and proceeded to stuff as many cheesy noodles as she could into her face.

“Don’t worry, we’ll watch Stranger Things tonight,” Cassie said. Val nodded, the large egg noodles spilling slightly out of her mouth. Cassie laughed, quickly pulling out her phone and snapping a picture.

“Oh mah gah,” Val cried out, trying to cover her mouth while she giggled.

“What? You’re cute,” Cassie replied as she continued to take photos of her ridiculously cheesy (both literally and figuratively) girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, follow-up notes!
> 
> 1) All the dads will be somewhat of a presence during the story, of course, but the main one aside from Robert will be Damien, at this point.
> 
> 2) I, the autistic fanfic writer, have so many neurodivergent headcanons for these characters. So. Fucking. Many. But basically: Damien's autistic, so is Mat, Daisy is autistic, Brian is also pretty autistic, Mary has some traits, and Crish is definitely going to be autistic. I get more of an ADHD vibe from Robert personally? But yeah. :autistic glitter all over everything:
> 
> 3) The story I'm planning on publishing will go more into depth of how I think the canonical Roseph went down. I'm not really a fan of Joseph, honestly, and while I'll try to not be outright antagonistic towards him, it's definitely not gonna be... a very... Joseph-friendly fic. But yeah, look out for that, I'll be sure to link it to this universe, since it will be important going forward.
> 
> 4) I need to have Val call Cassie curly-fry more often. Cassie calls Val chickpea several times, but there needs to be more curly-fry representation.
> 
> 5) Stranger Things would totally be something Val introduces Robert to, you can fight me on this.
> 
> Alright, keep an eye out for the Damien story, talk later!

**Author's Note:**

> Writing blog is @laramidianphantoms, and DDADDS blog is @smolmerch on Tumblr.


End file.
